


Slice Of Life

by fnowae



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Crack, Crack Fic, M/M, Patrick doesn't exist except he does, redoing these tags and have no idea what to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fnowae/pseuds/fnowae
Summary: "Well, the new craze is slice-of-life comics." Pete begins, perking up like he's been waiting for Joe to ask (he definitely has). "Y'know, an original and relatable main character just...dealing with life as is. People love things they can understand, and I hate to break it to you, but a half gorilla half human who can fly just isn't understandable to the majority of the population."Joe wants to argue, but the truth is Pete really has a point. "Okay, fine. If I try your stupid slice of pie comic, will you shut up?""Slice of life." Pete corrects, then grins and adds, "and yes."Comic artist!Joe and a heavy dealing of crack. What could go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who finally wrote crack again?
> 
> THIS GUY. 
> 
> this is for Kell, for loving this idea even if it's not for their ship. hopefully you'll enjoy this when you get back from training :)
> 
> Hopefully I actually update this because there's some real emotion later on...
> 
> enjoy!!!

"How about this-" Joe starts, but he's immediately cut off before he can finish. 

"Nope. OVERDONE." Pete says for what must be the twentieth time in the hour or so they've been skyping. 

"You didn't even know what I was going to say." Joe complains, looking at his piles of notes he had ready to talk about tonight, most of which have already been discarded as "overdone". 

"Well, after your last thirty or so superhero storylines, high school 'thrillers' that were less than thrilling, and those scrambled time travel related things that made absolutely no sense, you're getting rather predictable." Pete says casually, sighing over dramatically. 

Joe does his best to ignore the truth of what Pete is saying. "You're not my publisher, Pete. You don't choose what I write."

"No, but I know what people will and won't read, and I know that what people will and won't read determines how much money you make." Pete replies, raising an eyebrow. "And trust me, they aren't going near Gorillaman 2: The Gorilla-ing."

"I thought it was funny." Joe mutters, then sighs. "Alright, then what do you think people will read?"

"Well, the new craze is slice-of-life comics." Pete begins, perking up like he's been waiting for Joe to ask (he definitely has). "Y'know, an original and relatable main character just...dealing with life as is. People love things they can understand, and I hate to break it to you, but a half gorilla half human who can fly just isn't understandable to the majority of the population."

Joe wants to argue, but the truth is Pete really has a point. "Okay, fine. If I try your stupid slice of pie comic, will you shut up?"

"Slice of life." Pete corrects, then grins and adds, "and yes."

"Fine. Bye, Pete." Joe hangs up before he can be stopped and lectured again and sighs. It's been a long night (the clock reads 10:37, though it hardly feels that early), and right now he just wants to sleep. He can work on this tomorrow. 

So sleep he does. 

~*~ 

It's 11 am, and Joe's on his third cup of coffee, last piece of paper, and he's just aimlessly doodling at this point. He's jotted down some ideas for a "relatable" character (including "twenty cats", "likes music", "sports?", and "GAY???"), and so far he's gotten nowhere. From a discarded girl named Beth who played ultimate frisbee to Johnny the pizza delivery guy and even to a short lived idea for a nonbinary protagonist named Olive, he's out of drawing paper. He only brought so much. Now he's resorted to using an old napkin with coffee stains. 

Joe aimlessly doodles on the napkin, not fully paying attention to what he's drawing. He thinks that at this point, the attempt seems futile and pointless. 

He has no idea how wrong he is.

When he zones back in, he's staring at a drawing of a guy maybe his age who looks sort of like someone he'd run into at an artisan pizza place with his fedora and glasses (how artisan pizza place hipster can you get?). He immediately likes it. A lot. 

He pulls out his list of relatable ideas and circles everything that matches this guy. He ends up with "short", "likes music", "occasionally awkward", and "GAY???" (he couldn't resist circling the last one). Then he starts a new list on the back of the napkin, adding on to what he already has. In fifteen minutes, he has a complex personality for his character, along with likes and dislikes, his favorite foods, and even his favorite color. He flips the napkin back over and tries to think of a name, and all of a sudden it comes to him. 

He scribbles it down, downs his coffee, packs up, and calls Pete. 

~*~

Pete looks up from reading the napkin back, and surveying all the quick sketches and notes Joe produced in the three hours he was waiting for Pete to get off work. 

"Whoa." Pete says. "You are seriously into this character, aren't you?"

"I don't know, he kinda just...happened." Joe shrugs. "It was almost like I wasn't the one making him up."

"Cool." Pete grins. "And he's totally perfect! A gay protagonist is a perfect idea! Dude, so many teens out there need this guy, you have no idea."

Joe laughs. "Yeah."

"And where'd you think of the name?" Pete asks, looking up at Joe. "Patrick is a random name idea."

"I...I guess it just...fit." Joe says awkwardly, unsure of the true answer himself. 

"Sure, makes sense. Well anyway, show him to your publisher right away! She'll love him!" Pete says excitedly. "And then work on a love interest and some friends and a nice plot...dude, this is awesome!"

Joe laughs nervously. "Show him...to my publisher? Love interest...?"

"Duh." Pete rolls his eyes, like this is a concept every human should be aware of. 

"Yeah. Okay. Publisher. That stuff." Joe nods slowly, unsure of why that bothers him. 

"And can I send pics to Andy? You know he loves your art." Pete asks, grinning. 

"Yeah, uh, sure." Joe shrugs, overwhelmed. "Just make sure he doesn't show anyone else just yet."

"Tell Hurley to zip his lips. Got it." Pete grins, while snapping photo after photo.

Joe laughs, but he's still slightly uncomfortable, and he isn't sure why. 

~*~

He realizes it that night when he suddenly wakes up at 3 am from a weird dream. 

He doesn't want to share Patrick with a publisher because he feels like he's somehow...his. And he doesn't want to make him a love interest because he's sort of been putting _himself_ in that position. 

Joe shudders, and goes back to sleep. He'll be over it in the morning. 

He isn't over it in the morning. 

~*~

"You wrote _what_?" Pete asks, looking over the papers in his hand wildly. 

"Well, it's a plot, right?" Joe asks nervously. He knew telling Pete about this was a bad idea. "I'll just...change the names later."

"It's not a plot, it's damn fanfiction, you idiot." Pete says, glaring. "You cannot seriously tell me you are _that_ attached to your character. You did _not_ just stoop as low as fanfiction."

Joe shifts nervously in his spot on the couch. 

"Oh god, you idiot." Pete sighs. "Get over it fast, please. Snap out of it, man. Patrick is your comic book character. He is not your damn boyfriend. He doesn't live with you, he isn't friends with your friends, and none of what you wrote is real, because he doesn't exist. He is _not_ real."

Joe tries not to be hurt, but he knows Pete's right. This is just pathetic. "Okay. I won't think about him like that ever again. I promise."

"Good." Pete seems satisfied. 

Even Joe thinks he could do it...unfortunately for him, that's about to get a whole lot harder. 

~*~

Joe wakes up to the smell of bacon. He frowns, but in his half asleep state he barely registers that something about that is wrong. 

He yawns and gets up, pushing open the door to his room (already open?) to get to the living room/kitchen/dining room area. 

"Morning, Joe!" Someone says, and Joe turns to see someone cooking bacon and pancakes with their back to him. 

"Morning." Joe replies sleepily. 

He doesn't quite register that he lives alone. He doesn't quite register that no one should be in his apartment except for him. And he definitely doesn't register who is cooking him breakfast. 

At least, not until his surprise visitor turns around. 

Joe locks eyes with a face that he'd recognize anywhere, particularly because _he came up with it._

Right here, right now, standing in Joe's apartment cooking breakfast like nothing is wrong, is...

"Patrick?" Joe asks, staring with wide, confused eyes. 

"Yeah, hi, morning!" Patrick repeats casually, like there is absolutely nothing wrong with this picture. "What, were you surprised I actually woke up early?"

Joe just stands there, dumbfounded, unsure what to do. 

This is _not_ happening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that? I followed through for once in my life!
> 
> The first chapter was very exposition-y, but the plot starts to pick up here. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It takes what seems like forever for Patrick to notice that something's up with Joe. 

To which he responds, making the situation _much_ worse (for Joe, at least), "Is everything okay, babe?"

Joe practically stops breathing. Of _course_ he somehow made himself a boyfriend. Of fucking course. He had totally forgotten how much he may or may not have written about him and Patrick being together. And of course _that_ was real now too. 

"Yeah, uh, everything's fine. I'm just...tired." Joe replies, though it takes great effort to sound like what he's saying is true. 

"Okay, good, I was worried." Patrick smiles at him and turns back to his cooking. 

Joe takes a moment to back away and collect himself. Here is what he knows:

1\. The character he invented for his comic is in his kitchen making him breakfast.   
2\. The same character is apparently his boyfriend now.   
3\. This should not be happening.   
4\. He needs coffee. 

"Joe? You ready?" Patrick calls, and Joe looks up to see that he has set two plates of pancakes with bacon and eggs on the table. Joe isn't sure how long he was zoned out. 

"Uh, yeah!" Joe nods awkwardly, getting up to go sit at the table. Patrick is already sitting, smiling at him. Joe decides he has to act as natural as possible. 

"So...sleep well?" He asks only semi-awkwardly; just enough that Patrick seems to find it cute, and just too little to seem weird. Good start. 

"Yeah, and I'm glad I could make you breakfast before I go run errands today." Patrick replies, taking a bite of his eggs. 

"Yeah. Right. Errands day." Joe says, lucky to remember coming up with that concept when he was writing definitely-not-fanfiction. He'd thought it would be a sweet idea that every Tuesday either him or Patrick ran errands all day to keep the other days free. It's Tuesday, and it must be Patrick's turn. He shoves a bite of pancake into his mouth. It's amazing. 

"You sure you're okay?" Patrick asks, a note of concern in his voice. 

"Yes. Sorry. Haven't had my coffee." Joe replies, laughing. 

"I made you a cup, idiot, it's on the counter." Patrick rolls his eyes. "How tired are you?"

"Very." Joe mutters, getting up to retrieve a cup of now cold coffee from the counter (which already has two sugars and cream, just how he likes it). 

"Get the caffeine in your system, then." Patrick suggests jokingly, taking another bite of eggs. 

"Yeah." Joe agrees, taking a sip in demonstration. Like the pancakes, it's exceptionally good. 

They eat in silence for a while. The food is amazing (Joe did write somewhere that Patrick was a good cook, didn't he? It's a weird thought), and the atmosphere is starting to feel less strange. Joe is almost ready to accept that this shit is happening and move on, but then-

"Oh, your phone's ringing." Patrick says, jabbing his thumb to the counter where Joe left his phone the previous night. 

Joe sighs and goes to pick up, and is met with, "Are you ditching me?"

Joe glances at Patrick and moves back into his bedroom for privacy, smiling apologetically at his boyfriend (sort of?) as he does. 

When he's in, he hisses, "Pete? What?"

"I thought we were meeting up for coffee this morning." Pete replied, sounding disgruntled. "I've been waiting an hour."

"Oh, shit, I-" Joe freezes. He was about to say something about having breakfast with Patrick, but Patrick isn't supposed to exist. He realizes with a jolt that Pete can't know. "Something came up." He says instead (close enough to the truth), and adds, "I'm sorry I forgot." That, at least is true, though it makes up for nothing.

"Well if that something is worth ditching our talk about your one way to make money, I'd like to know." Pete replies bitterly, and Joe's heart all but stops. 

"No, it's nothing." He says quickly. "We can meet up later, though, is that okay?"

Pete sighs, sounding dejected and not at all okay with that idea. "Fine. See you then." Then he hangs up. 

Joe lets out a sigh of relief. That was a _very_ close call. It's now that he realizes that he can't let anyone find out about Patrick. Well, no one who would recognize him, at least. So that means Andy and Pete. Okay. He can do that. 

He leaves the room to find Patrick cleaning up, looking ready to go. 

"You heading out?" He asks, and Patrick nods. 

"Yeah, I'll see you in four hours tops, okay?" He says, pulling on shoes that are definitely not Joe's (so Patrick pulled an entire wardrobe into this reality with him too?). 

"Sounds good." Joe says, walking further into the room. 

Patrick walks over to meet him, and, completely surprising Joe, kisses him quickly and says, "Bye!"

"Bye." Joe manages faintly, watching Patrick leave out the door, closing it behind him. 

Joe slowly shakes his head, trying to ground himself, and turns to head into his (and Patrick's?) bedroom. If he's meeting Pete later, he still needs to get ready. 

He's halfway into the room when he sees it. Still spread across his desk is an assortment of drawings and pages of writing that he nearly forgot about. Not good. 

Joe runs to all his concept art and his definitely-not-but-really-actually-fanfiction that it has come to his attention that Patrick _cannot_ be allowed to see. He gathers it all into his arms (even the coffee stained napkin that started this whole mess) and looks quickly for somewhere to stash it. 

Seeing nowhere else Patrick wouldn't look, he lifts the mattress of the bed and stuffs all the papers under in three separate stacks to keep them even and prevent an obvious lump. Breathing heavily, he lets the mattress fall back into place and steps back.

He can't tell at all that the papers are there, so he crosses his fingers that Patrick won't either. 

At this moment, two things happen. The apartment door opens, and his phone buzzes. Joe inhales sharply. 

"Forgot the keys!" Patrick calls from the front. 

_is two ok then?_ says the text from Pete. 

The door slams. The phone screen darkens again. 

Joe exhales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is appreciated. 
> 
> *cough* please comment *cough*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Y'all get this shit. (I showed my friends that and they thought it wasn't funny. Fuck you, Nathan.)
> 
> so here's chapter three! 
> 
> And thanks again to Kell for being so helpful with this fic. I haven't written this much so quickly since CATM...don't know if that's good or bad. CATM was...interesting. 
> 
> So, without further ado...enjoy!

At 1:45, Joe is on his way to the coffee shop to meet Pete. Patrick took the car (which is a thought that startles Joe enough to make him stop and marvel at it for a moment, the fact that Patrick exists to take the car in the first place), so Joe is walking. The coffee shop is pretty close to his apartment anyway (which is why he and Pete meet there so frequently), so it's not really a problem. 

It's a bit cold out, but not enough to bother Joe, and he makes it to the coffee shop without incident. A quick survey of the shop reveals that Pete isn't here yet (Joe is a few minutes early), so he grabs a two person table near the entrance. 

Pete walks in a couple minutes later, spots Joe, and joins him. 

"Hey, sorry I forgot to come this morning." Joe says apologetically. 

"It's okay, it's an excuse for me to have double the coffee today." Pete jokes, giving Joe an assuring smile. 

"Good." Joe nods. 

Then Pete frowns. "You look winded. Did you walk here?"

"Uh, yeah, why?" Joe replies, suddenly nervous. Is Pete onto him?

"Just...you always drive here. I guess I was a bit surprised." Pete shrugs, and doesn't bring it up again. 

"So, how's your day?" Joe asks, relieved. 

"After you left me hanging?" Pete jokes, then answers, "Pretty good. You?"

"Good." Joe says awkwardly, though what he wants to do is scream "MY IMAGINARY COMIC BOOK CHARACTER IS REAL AND I FOUND HIM COOKING ME BREAKFAST THIS MORNING AND ALSO HE KISSED ME AND I KINDA WANT TO DIE RIGHT NOW", but for now, "good" will have to suffice. 

"You're over...y'know?" Pete asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Joe's breath catches in his throat, and he feels like he's about to choke. As if on cue, just as he manages to force out a weak "totally", his phone rings. 

His stomach drops, and his fears are confirmed when he pulls his phone out and sees that the caller ID says "Patrick". At first, he wonders why Patrick's number is already in his contacts, but he concludes it's for the same reason that Patrick came with his own wardrobe: it just is. 

"Who is it?" Pete asks, and Joe panics. 

"Uh...it's...I gotta take this." Joe forces out, nearly choking on his own words. Before Pete can ask any questions, he rushes into the coffee shop's (thankfully empty) bathroom. 

He answers on what was probably the last ring. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Patrick replies, sounding cheery. 

"Uh, what's up?" Joe asks, hoping how nervous he is doesn't show in his voice. 

"Oh, not much, I was just wondering what kind of snacks I should grab for movie night?" Patrick asks.

Joe takes a deep breath. Friday movie night. Right. It's a tradition he, Andy, and Pete had upheld for years, and he may have written Patrick into it. Trying to calm himself, he asks, "Did you have to call?", then winces and adds, "sorry, that was rude."

"No, no, you're right, you're out with Pete right now, right?" Patrick says. 

Joe doesn't ask how Patrick knows where he is (again, the wardrobe theory probably holds true), he just says, "Yeah, but it's fine. And, uh...surprise me. Make sure we have barbecue chips though."

"Obviously." Patrick laughs. "Get back to Pete. Bye, Joe. Love you."

Joe is surprised, but, going red, finds himself stuttering out, "Love you too." 

Patrick laughs lightly again and hangs up. Joe doesn't remember if he came up with Patrick having such a nice laugh or if it just happened, but either way he's thankful for it. 

Taking a deep breath, Joe walks back out into the main area of the shop and sits back down across from Pete. 

"Who was that?" Pete asks, looking suspicious. 

"Uh...it was...uh..." Joe stutters, trying to think of something, anything really, other than the truth. 

Suddenly Pete's face lights up. "Did you actually tell your publisher?"

"I..." Joe quickly decides to go along with it. "Yes. That...yes, that was her."

"I knew you were over him!" Pete says happily, causing Joe to choke on air yet again. 

"Yeah..." he says, nodding slowly. 

"Well?" Pete asks intently. "What'd she think?"

"Uh...she loved it." Joe says quickly. God, now Pete thinks he's pitched Patrick to his publisher. Joe doesn't know if that's better or worse than Pete knowing that Patrick is actually currently out running errands. Existing. Which, by all accounts, he shouldn't be. 

"Good! Great!" Pete is beaming now, making Joe all the more uncomfortable. 

"Yes. Definitely." He half-heartedly agrees. 

Pete smiles wider. "I'm so happy you got over that, man, really."

"Yep. Totally." Joe nods. "I'm over that."

Pete laughs. "Hopefully you can rest now that you've got an idea into your publisher, huh?"

"Oh. Yeah. I do." Joe replies, suddenly realizing that since Patrick is definitely no longer a comic character, he's back to square one on a new comic, and he's supposed to have a new idea in to his publisher within a month or she's dropping him. Shit. Not good. Now, on top of everything else, he needs a new idea to save his job. 

Pete is off on another chattering rant about something that happened to him earlier, and Joe tries his best to listen, but the truth is, he's horrified that the next time the coffee shop door opens, it'll be Patrick coming in to "surprise him" (because Joe of all people should know Patrick would do that). 

"And I really am glad you got that comic in." Pete says again. 

Again, Joe chokes on his breath. 

"Yeah." He agrees, nodding, but at the same time he's biting his lip. 

Pete checks his phone and raises an eyebrow. "Oh man, we've been here a while. I have to go."

"Okay." Joe says, secretly thankful for that. 

The two get up and leave the shop, and Joe waves as Pete drives off in his car. Then, Joe turns to the direction of his apartment, and the direction of his suddenly existent boyfriend, and starts walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, I live for comments! (seriously, the comment section was what kept me going on this. Thanks y'all.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> six months of writer's block? goNE. was it because I got a boyfriend and I love him a lot and he made me really happy so I wrote this? definitely, thanks Patrick 
> 
> ahehshebdhdh id like to apologize to all of you (and especially to sia) I can't believe you diligently waited for this thank you
> 
> this is mostly filler and it's kinda short but it's SOMETHING. And if you can't tell by the ending, it's about to get goooOOOD. 
> 
> enjoy!

When Joe wakes up the next morning, it takes him a moment to recall exactly what's going on. It's only when he realizes there's someone else in bed with him, arms wrapped around his middle and head buried in his neck, that he remembers the mess that happened with Patrick and _oh, god_. 

He gently eases himself out of Patrick's arms, careful not to disturb him. But that really does nothing, because Patrick lazily blinks his eyes open anyway and yawns, looking at Joe. 

"Mornin'," he mumbles, stretching a little in bed. "What are you doing getting up so soon? It's only seven."

"Uh..." Joe looks to the clock (yes, it is seven), then back to Patrick. He tries to think of some way to respond other than _I want to run as far from this situation as possible because you're supposed to be my made-up comic character and not my real life boyfriend_ , but there's no way he's saying that, no way he's telling Patrick how much he's really not supposed to exist, so he settles for, "I just wanted to get an early start today?" It comes out as a question and he winces. 

Patrick laughs a little. "Early start on what? Doing nothing? C'mon, get back here."

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna get dressed and grab some coffee. You want anything?" Joe asks, wincing again at how awkward and uncomfortable he sounds. 

Patrick obviously picks up on the nervous tone of Joe's voice, because he looks a little hurt, and Joe can't say it doesn't make his heart clench, just a little. Sitting up a little in bed, Patrick says, "Oh. Okay. Uh...you know what I like."

"Yeah. I do," Joe responds. And he does; it's a caramel mocha, with whip, and double espresso if it's in the morning. He knows because _he came up with that_. He shudders involuntarily at the thought. 

"Okay then, thanks." Patrick sinks back under the covers, and Joe can't deny that he feels really bad about upsetting Patrick like this. Even though, hell, technically he's only known the guy for a day. For some inexplicable reason, he decides to lean across the bed and press a quick kiss to Patrick's forehead (he wouldn't have been able to get to Patrick's lips from this angle anyway, even if he wanted to, which he definitely doesn't - nope, not at all). 

This seems to put Patrick somewhat at ease, and Joe is grateful for that as he runs towards the door like a maniac. 

He tosses on a coat and shoes over the t-shirt and sweatpants he'd slept in, and pulls on a knit hat instead of bothering to touch his mess of hair. He's really grateful for the existence of hats right now. They make escaping his relentlessly existent fictional boyfriend so much quicker and easier. Maybe he should find out who invented hats and write them a card - _thanks dude, hats totally saved me like thirty minutes of taming my hair so I could run from my problems faster_. Then he realizes that sounds ridiculous, and the guy who invented hats is probably dead anyway. 

He walks to the coffee shop again, even though the car is a viable choice this time, with Patrick still in bed. He feels like he needs to feel the chilly breeze in his face to really wake him up, or some shit like that. He considers that maybe he's been dreaming this whole time, and all he really _does_ need is to wake up. Wouldn't that make so much more sense than the alternative? You know, Patrick legitimately being real? Yeah, it kind of would. 

He strolls into the shop and rattles off his order to the girl behind the counter - Patrick's favorite, and just a plain black coffee for himself. The girl nods and asks for seven bucks, which Joe forks over just as someone walks up to him. 

"Hey!"

Joe freezes. Slowly, he turns to the voice, offering a weak greeting of, "Hey, Pete."

Pete beams back at him, completely unaware of how stressed out Joe is right now. "Hey! How's it going?"

Joe shrugs and lies, "Totally great, Pete."

Pete nods amicably, believing Joe wholeheartedly. "That's good. That's good."

Joe sighs as the girl behind the counter hands him some change, and he strolls off to retrieve the drinks from the pickup place at the other end of the shop. He hopes that Pete will leave him alone now and order his own drink, but instead, Pete follows him along. 

Neither of them say anything, but Joe stands awkwardly next to Pete, waiting for the drinks. Finally, a warmly smiling barista hands them over, and Joe accepts them with his own thankful smile. 

"Whatcha got two drinks for?" Pete asks suddenly, startling Joe so much that he almost drops Patrick's mocha. And that's exactly the problem. Patrick shouldn't exist to need a mocha in the first place. And Pete can't know that he does. 

"Uh," Joe says weakly, attempting to bullshit an excuse. "Because...uh...why not?"

Pete is either too imperceptive or too tired to care that this makes no sense - or, most likely, he's both. "Okay. You do you, I guess?"

Joe nods stiffly, trying to move past Pete, but Pete keeps standing in his way. "Uh, I gotta...go home, man," he says. _I need to bring this mocha to my impossibly existent boyfriend and make up for being weird earlier_ , he does not say. 

"Cool, okay." Pete shrugs and steps aside. "Have fun, I guess?"

Joe simply nods a silent goodbye and leaves before the exchange can get any more awkward, or before Pete can keep asking questions that Joe can't answer. Can't answer without explaining Patrick, that is. The prospect of giving that explanation to Pete is not an appealing none. 

He gets home quicker than he probably should be able to, walking briskly as the cold wind slams into him again. By the time he gets home, his nose is running a little and he's sneezing. That's what he gets for not taking the car, he supposes. 

When he walks back into his apartment, Patrick is standing over the stove, cooking what looks to be oatmeal. Joe isn't sure he likes oatmeal, but then again, as long as Patrick is making it he can probably be assured he'll like it. Patrick is a damn good cook, if nothing else. 

Where did they get oatmeal, anyway?

Patrick looks up when Joe walks in. At first, he still looks a little hurt, but then it melts away into a look of worry and he dashes over, rushing out as he goes, "Oh, honey, you're sniffling, tell me you didn't walk to the coffee place in the cold like that." When he says "like that", he eyes Joe's thin clothes warily. 

Joe tries to act like he's not at all weirded out by the endearment tumbling out of the mouth of the person who's not supposed to even be here in the first place, and shrugs. "Felt like walking," he says honestly. 

Patrick shakes his head, brushing his hand against Joe's forehead and mumbling, "Oh god, do you have a fever too? Joe, why the hell did you do that? It's freezing out there!"

"I'm fine," Joe insists, stepping back from his over-protective boyfriend and extending the mocha like a peace offering. "Here."

Patrick takes it, but still looks worried. He takes a sip and announces importantly, "That's it, I'm making you tea and getting you some Advil and we're spending today resting so you don't get sicker and I'm calling Pete right this fucking second and canceling movie night because I don't want you getting anyone else sick too and-"

"Whoa! Calm down!" Joe cuts him off, eyes widening. "It's just a cold, and-" He freezes, processing Patrick's words. "Wait, what did you say?" Movie night, yeah that's tomorrow, calling Pete - oh no. 

Patrick already has his phone out, and Joe has to yell "WAIT!" to make him pause. 

Patrick casts him a concerned look, frozen with his phone still in hand. "What?"

"You, uh...don't need to cancel movie night," Joe says anxiously, trying to formulate an excuse on short notice. "I'll be okay by tomorrow, I swear. Don't call Pete." What he doesn't say is that if Patrick calls Pete, Pete is going to know he exists, and that can't possibly be allowed to happen. So he has to stop this at all costs. 

Patrick's brow furrows, but he lowers the phone slowly, so Joe counts it as a win. "Are you sure?"

Joe nods emphatically. "Yes! I'll be okay. Just...a rest day today, and I'll be fine for movie night tomorrow."

"Okay," Patrick says reluctantly, tucking his phone into his pocket and eliciting a sigh of relief from Joe. "I trust you."

Joe cringes. As if he wasn't getting enough of a guilt trip already, Patrick has to fucking _trust him_ and shit. Fuck. 

Patrick turns back to the oatmeal, stirring it a few times, then goes to start some tea for Joe like he'd said he would. 

Joe sits down on the couch with his coffee, sipping lazily at it and letting himself relax at the concept of simply getting a day of resting, until - wait. 

Realization slams into him with the force of a speeding train. He hadn't fully comprehended what Patrick had said before "calling Pete" because he'd been so freaked out about, well, the calling Pete part. But - oh, shit, fuck, no. 

Movie night. Every Friday, there's movie night. And Friday is tomorrow. And Pete and Andy are coming over _tomorrow_. 

And Patrick still, stubbornly, exists. 

Oh, good god, Joe is fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't as Bad as I set it up to be last chapter. the next one, on the other hand...oh boy. 
> 
> Hopefully it will be up soon, 'cause I'm currently just starting an 8 hour drive to Oregon (SOLAR ECLIPSE PARTY WHOOP!) so I have plenty of writing time. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Joe has a dilemma. 

It's Friday. It's movie night. Pete and Andy will be here in two hours and he still hasn't decided what the hell to do about it. 

Theoretically, he has two options. He could cancel on Pete and Andy so they don't come over and see Patrick, or he could give up and be honest with his friends, and let them come over and find out. 

Neither option is too appealing right now. 

At first, he rules out being honest entirely. Hell, he doesn't even know how Patrick exists, what is he supposed to say to his friends about it? Besides, if they come over and act surprised that Patrick is there, it's going to tip Patrick off that something about him is very, very wrong. And Joe does not want to let that happen. 

Cancelling on Pete and Andy seems like the easy way out, but it's really not. If he cancels now, he could easily claim sickness - though it's gotten better, his cold still hasn't let up, he wouldn't be lying - but then what would he tell Patrick? He'd so vehemently denied needing to cancel yesterday, and if he switches sides and suddenly needs it now, especially when he's actually feeling a little better...well, he might actually have to be honest with Patrick then. 

So the choice isn't really what to do, it's who he's going to tell the truth to. 

One hour before Pete and Andy are set to arrive, Joe makes his decision. It's less the right choice and more the lesser of two evils, but he'll take it at this point. 

He picks up his phone, opens his group message with Pete and Andy, and drafts a text telling them...

Not to freak out. 

He doesn't specify why they shouldn't be freaking out, or why they would be freaking out in the first place, but he tells them not to. He sends the text after only a moment's hesitation. 

_Okay, when you come over today you're gonna see something really weird. Don't fucking freak out on me. Just trust me. I can explain. Kind of._

He knows this text is going to freak his friends out on its own, but it's better than having them react poorly to Patrick and inadvertently clueing Patrick in to the situation. Because Joe's decision is this - he'd rather have Pete and Andy find out that Patrick exists than have Patrick find out he's not supposed to. 

Pete and Andy are Joe's closest friends, this is true, but hell, he's head over heels for Patrick, and he can't lie about that anymore. He'd loved Patrick before the guy had even actually existed. He can't pretend that's not true. So Patrick's feelings take priority over Pete and Andy's future confusion. 

Thirty minutes until Pete and Andy are going to show up. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe can see Patrick putting the movie snacks into bowls in the kitchen. He steels his nerves. He can handle this. If he can handle finding out Patrick exists, he can handle Pete and Andy finding out. 

The problem is, how well had he even handled Patrick's existence? He hadn't. So can he really handle Pete and Andy finding out? He'll have to see. 

Fifteen minutes until Pete and Andy are going to show up. Patrick has set about going through their movie collection excitedly, sorting through movie after movie. 

"Hey, babe, how does Goonies sound?" he calls over his shoulder, waving a DVD case at Joe, clutching about six others in his other hand. 

Joe shrugs distractedly, not quite paying attention as his thoughts tumble around in his head like someone's put them in a huge washing machine at full speed. "Mhm, sounds great."

"Cool, good!" Patrick says, nodding and putting the rest of the movies he'd been looking at back. 

Ten minutes until-

The doorbell rings. Of course they're fucking early. 

Joe thanks whatever deity there may be for the fact that he lives in apartment, and here's why - the doorbell doesn't mean Pete and Andy are at his door. It means they're at the front door. He has to let them into the building itself before they can get in here - he'd do anything for that chance to vaguely debrief them. He's fucking glad he can. 

He springs up to go let them in before Patrick can, because the last thing he needs right now is for Patrick to be the one to greet them. 

"I got it, hon," he promises, not even noticing as the nickname slips off his tongue unprompted. 

Patrick shrugs. "Go ahead. I can finish setting up."

Joe nods indistinctly and rushes out the door, bolting down the stairs to the front door at record speed. 

He takes a deep breath as he walks towards it, readying himself to try and somehow prepare his friends for this. Slowly, he reaches out and opens the door. 

Pete and Andy try to speak at the same time. As Pete spits out, "What the hell did that text mean?", Andy greets him much more calmly with a quiet, "Haven't seen you since last movie night. Hey."

Joe winces, trying to figure out what the fuck he's even supposed to say. Finally, he settles on, "Uh, guys...don't freak out about Patrick."

Pete blinks once, then his eyes narrow and he asks, "Um, what? Patrick, the character you came up with? That Patrick?"

Joe grimaces. This is already off to a bad start. He sighs and answers, "Yes, that Patrick."

"Don't freak out about him why? Why would we be freaking out?" Pete is starting to look rather suspicious, and Joe starts to wonder if this wasn't the right choice after all. 

"Pete, calm down-" Andy starts. 

"No, no, I'm really confused," Pete cuts him off, glaring at Joe. "Because first you started acting weird around me, then you sent us that weird text and I wasn't sure what the hell it meant, and now you're telling us not to freak out about something to do with a fictional character you created?"

Joe groans. He gives up. It's obvious he'll never be able to explain this, so he might as well just show them. "Fine. Never mind. Just come up and _do not fucking freak out._ "

Andy shrugs, and Pete pulls a face, but they both follow Joe up to his apartment without further questioning. 

When he reaches the door, Joe inhales sharply, mutters a final, "Don't fucking freak", and pushes it open. 

Patrick is sitting on the couch waiting, already eating some of the Cheetos. Joe is pretty sure the snacks are supposed to be for during the movie, but hell, he's not about to tell Patrick off for it. 

He can tell that Pete and Andy are frozen behind him, gaping at the figure on the couch. Patrick notices they've arrived and turns to greet them, waving fingers tinged orange with Cheeto dust and warmly calling, "Hey!"

"Joe oh my god what the actual fuck," Pete hisses out, basically all in one breath. Joe sighs. Here goes nothing. 

"Oh, shit!" he says loudly, laughing nervously. "I totally forgot to get the sodas out!" He turns to Pete and Andy, who are definitely gaping like he'd thought they were, and asks, "Want to help me with those, guys? In the kitchen? Right now?"

Pete starts to protest, but Andy speaks up first, just as overly loud as Joe had been. "Yeah, Joe, that sounds great."

Joe pulls his friends into the apartment and slams the door after them, then leads them into the kitchen, thankfully right out of Patrick's earshot. 

"Okay," Pete grits out under his breath, "would you like to explain to me why your _fictional character_ is sitting on the couch right now, eating our Cheetos?"

Joe bites his lip, opening the fridge and pulling out sodas to keep his cover story intact. "Uh, yeah, short answer - no fucking idea." He adds, louder, "Hey, which sodas do you guys want?" Even louder, he calls into the living room, "And you too, Patrick."

"Root beer, thanks!" Patrick calls back. Joe nods and goes in for it. 

"Sprite," Andy says, and Joe grabs that too, setting the two cans on the counter. 

Pete doesn't answer, just gives him a disbelieving look, and Joe shrugs, grabbing Dr. Pepper for Pete as a default, and one for himself too. 

"No, really," he continues quietly as he sets all the cans down. "I woke up on Tuesday and he was just _here_. He made me breakfast. I - I don't know, I've just kind of been going with it."

To Pete's credit, he shuts the fuck up and simply shrugs, muttering, "I'm confused as fuck, but I'll go with it if you are."

Andy doesn't seem all that much freaked out either, and Joe is grateful for it. Andy just asks, "So...does he know?"

Joe shakes his head, opening all the sodas as he does. He grits his teeth as his finger catches painfully on the tab of the Sprite and mutters, "He has no idea. He thinks he's my boyfriend, too, which is...a bit weird, but, uh...yeah."

"Oh, wow," Pete says, eyes widening. Suddenly, a look of realization dawns on his face. "Oh, shit, on Tuesday when you pushed back our meeting - and then acted weird when I asked about him..."

"I was kind of freaking out," Joe admits, finally getting the pesky can open. "I didn't know what to think. But, uh, yeah. Now you guys know just about as much as I do."

"That's wild," Pete says, sounding disbelieving and yet believing all at the same time. 

Joe nods, handing a can each to Pete and Andy. Andy thanks him when he takes his, but Pete just stares blankly as he accepts the drink. "It's weird. But...I'm dealing. Working with it. It's not horrible, really." And he's being honest. It's really not. 

"Alright, then," Andy says. "Good to know."

And that's that. 

Joe carries his and Patrick's drinks to the couch as Pete and Andy trail behind. He hands the root beer to Patrick as he sits down, and Patrick accepts it with a smile. 

"Thanks, babe," he says as he takes it, leaning a bit to give Joe an appreciative kiss on the cheek. Joe pretends not to notice Pete and Andy staring as they take their own seats on the couch. 

Pete clears his throat, and everyone turns to look to him. 

"Uh, what movie are we watching?" he asks, gesturing vaguely to the TV. 

Patrick beams. "Oh, Goonies! I chose. Hope you don't mind."

"No, uh, that sounds great," Pete says. Joe can tell he still isn't certain how to feel about Patrick, but it doesn't seem like Patrick himself notices, so that's a start. 

"Good. Because I wasn't going to let you change it," Patrick jokes, grinning as he turns to the remote and plays the movie. Pete actually drops the uncertain look and laughs, which Joe takes as a definite good sign. 

As the movie starts, it suddenly occurs to Joe that he's basically just fixed all his problems. 

The biggest issue with Patrick was keeping him secret from anyone who knew about him - and that was just Pete and Andy. And now that they know, and don't really care all that much, there's nothing else negative about Patrick at all. 

Joe lets himself lean into Patrick's side, wrapping an arm over his boyfriend's shoulders. And yeah, wow, this is actually pretty great. He's got a caring boyfriend, who he knows loves him - he pushes the thought of _because he was written to_ out of his mind - and there's literally no drawback, not now that Pete and Andy know he exists. 

Everything is fucking great. 

It's like nothing could possibly go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... uh o h


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don't value your emotions. Because they're about to get smashed. 
> 
> Sorry?
> 
> Anyways, for fun, here's a mini playlist of songs that remind me of this chapter:
> 
> The Fall - Imagine Dragons   
> Smoke and Mirrors - Imagine Dragons  
> My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark - Fall Out Boy (of course)
> 
> And, of course, the song that this chapter was unintentionally inspired by (by which I mean I had the idea for this chapter before I actually first heard the song)
> 
> Burn - Hamilton 
> 
> Yeah, I'm sorry.

Now that he's calmed down about it, Joe can say he's actually started to get used to having Patrick around. 

It's nice to wake up with someone curled up in bed with him, it's nice to have someone cooking him breakfast every morning, hell, it's just nice to have someone around who cares about him. And it helps that he cares a lot about Patrick, too. 

Today is Tuesday, making it errands day again. It's also the one week anniversary of Patrick's existence, but Joe is slowly starting to feel like Patrick has always been around, in a way. Just, now he literally exists. It doesn't really matter to Joe anymore that he didn't before. 

It's been a couple days since movie night, and a couple amazing days at that. Joe has given up on freaking out. He just rolls with it. Patrick exists. There's no changing that. So why should he be so freaked out about it? He shouldn't, that's the answer. So he isn't. 

Joe slides his coat on, turning to grin at Patrick before he leaves. Patrick is washing dishes in the kitchen, looking fucking ethereal in the morning light. Fuck, Joe loves him. So much. 

"Honey, I'm going out now!" he calls, and Patrick looks up from the dishes just long enough to murmur, "Mhm, have fun" and smile back at Joe briefly. 

Joe grins even wider and heads out the door, feeling happier than he's felt in ages as he strolls downstairs and out the front door. He's so fucking elated. Patrick may be the best thing that's ever happened to him. He doesn't care how weird the circumstances are anymore. He's just happy this has happened at all. 

Right now, it feels like everything is right in the world and nothing will ever go wrong again. 

///

Patrick smiles softly at the door as Joe shuts it behind him. Errands days always suck, because being separated for a whole day is horrible, but he makes do by going about and doing miscellaneous household chores. 

Today, he finishes washing the dishes, then sets them out to dry. Next, he reorganizes the closet, even knowing it'll probably piss Joe off - Joe has a strict by-size organization system for his clothes, but Patrick thinks it looks nice when they're lined up by color. Oh well. Joe could never really be mad at him. Not really. 

He looks around the bedroom for something else to do, and his eyes settle on the bed. He doesn't remember the last time they washed the sheets. Well, that's something to do, at least. 

He walks over and sets to work tugging the blankets off first, and then goes at the sheets. As he pulls the sheets off, something flutters out from underneath. 

He kneels down, frowning, and picks it up. It's a piece of paper. He recognizes Joe's scribbly handwriting immediately. Whatever is on the paper is a story of some kind, and because it's in first person, Patrick can't figure out what it is at first, even though it seems so familiar. Then he realizes - it's an account of his and Joe's first date. 

He smiles warmly when he recognizes it. He remembers it like it was yesterday - they'd met at a park at midnight. Patrick's girlfriend had just broken up with him and he was crying by the fountain. Joe had been walking by and had come up and said _Excuse me, but I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen_. Patrick's heart soars at the memory. He doesn't care how much of a cliche it is, it's still probably the best thing that's ever happened to him. He grins lazily down at the paper in his hand, recalling it as he reads the words that match his memory perfectly. He isn't sure why Joe had written this down - and, judging by the date messily scribbled on the upper right hand corner, two weeks ago, which is a bit of an odd time frame - but he feels flattered all the same. 

Then he turns it over. 

The story continues on the other side, but there's also a neon green sticky note stuck on top, with sharpie writing in handwriting that definitely isn't Joe's. 

**Stop writing your fucking fanfiction, idiot. This isn't real, remember?**

Patrick's brow furrows at this. Now this makes much less sense. What fanfiction? What isn't real? The note certainly can't be referring to the story clutched in his hand - he knows it's real. He remembers it. 

He can't figure out who's written this note, either, even though the scratchy handwriting is vaguely familiar. And then he catches on - it's Pete's. He knew he recognized it from somewhere. 

But that makes even less sense. Why is Pete writing Joe notes about something not being real and then sticking them on an account of his and Patrick's first date? It just doesn't add up. Unless-

No, that wouldn't make sense at all. Of course the date was real. Patrick knows it is. His own memory can't be lying to him. 

He notices that the story cuts off, so presumably there's more. Slowly, cautiously, he reaches out and lifts up the mattress that the paper had tumbled out from under. 

///

Joe shoulders his abundant bags of groceries as he heads up the stairs to his apartment - his and Patrick's, he reminds himself. Patrick lives there now, too. He smiles at just the thought. 

He unlocks his door and pushes it open, calling into the apartment, "Honey, I'm home!" His smile widens. He loves being able to say that. He can't believe he'd ever thought Patrick being real could be a bad thing. It's clear that nothing bad could ever come of this. 

Joe frowns as he closes the door behind him. He can't see Patrick in the living room or kitchen, so he assumes he's in the bedroom. He remembers writing about how Patrick doesn't like being separated for even a day, and he compensates by cleaning the place up. He considers briefly that he shouldn't have written Patrick so clingy, but hell, he can't change that now. And besides, it's kind of sweet. He doesn't regret anything he's written about Patrick, not really. 

He strides across the living room and towards the bedroom, calling as he goes, "Hey, Patrick? I'm-"

He freezes the second he opens the door. Patrick is in the bedroom, alright. He's sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, with an abundance of papers scattered around him. A few of them are clutched in his hands, and he's staring at them blankly, an indiscernible look on his face. The mattress has been thrown off the bed. It only takes Joe a moment to realize what's happened. 

"Home," he finishes weakly. "Oh, god."

Patrick looks up, fists clenching tighter and crinkling the papers in his hands when he sees Joe. Now that he's a got a clear view of Patrick's face, Joe can tell he's been crying. 

Not good. Shit. 

"What the fuck is this?" Patrick hisses out bitterly, dropping the papers in his hands and gesturing around the room vaguely. "There'd better be an explanation other than the one I'm kind of starting to believe, because I fucking hope I'm not right."

Joe's stomach twists. He feels sick. "U - um," he stammers out faintly, trying to find a way to explain this that isn't the truth. But apparently he takes too long, because Patrick's eyes narrow and he seethes, "Oh, fuck you."

"This isn't-" Joe starts hurriedly, holding his hands up defensively. 

"What it looks like?" Patrick finishes sourly. "Oh, I think it's fucking exactly what it looks like." He snatches a couple papers up off the floor and waves them at Joe menacingly. "Character reference sheets? Fucking - fucking _plotlines_? And-" He shoves a tiny neon green sticky note at Joe. "And _this_?"

Joe takes it, recognizing it immediately as the note Pete had left on his writing one day after scolding him repeatedly for becoming too invested in Patrick. Fucking hell. Let it be known - dramatic irony sucks ass. 

"It's not real," Patrick says mockingly, nose scrunching up in fury. "It's really not, is it?"

"Patrick, I-" Joe begins, trying to figure out what he even wants to say, but he doesn't get a chance to even try. 

"Yeah, fuck you," Patrick interrupts stiffly, tensing as he waves a hand around the room again. "All of this - all of this is _fake_ , you _made it up_." His face falls, anger turning to hopelessness. "I thought this was real. For fuck's sake, Joe, I _remember it_." 

"It _is_ real!" Joe says insistently, even though he knows it really, really isn't. 

Patrick doesn't buy it either. "No," he whispers darkly, "it's _not_."

Joe is at a loss. He doesn't know what to say next, what to do. Patrick is back to glaring hotly at him, which Joe vaguely prefers to the sadness from earlier, but not by much. 

Patrick is the one to finally break the silence. "Fuck you," he mutters, hands flying to something set down behind him. His hands come back with one thing in each. It takes Joe a moment to place them. 

He recognizes the item in Patrick's right hand first - it's a napkin. _The_ napkin. The thing that had started this whole mess - his first drawing of Patrick, his first ideas, his first everything. 

"This is the first thing, isn't it?" Patrick is saying, waving the napkin at Joe as if he knows exactly what Joe is thinking. Joe can only nod blankly. Patrick nods back sharply. "Yeah, I thought so. Hope you don't care about it too much." He adds, resentfully, "Hope you don't care about _me_ too much."

He threateningly shakes the other thing he's holding, and everything clicks in Joe's head. 

"Oh, no no no, Patrick, put that down!" he cries worriedly, eyeing what Patrick's holding. 

It's a lighter. Patrick flicks it on. 

" _Fuck you_ ," he grits out, moving his hands together and, in one fluid motion, sets fire to the napkin. 

Without warning, he yelps and drops both the napkin and lighter. Joe lunges forward, grabbing the napkin and blowing on it until the fire is out. The napkin is mostly undamaged, but for a bit of charring on the corner. Joe holds it gingerly, afraid to damage it further. 

He looks back up to see Patrick doubled over, clutching his chest and swearing under his breath. Joe watches as Patrick carefully lifts his shirt, revealing a line of bright red, burned skin. 

"Oh, holy _shit_ ," Patrick breathes out, gaping, then quickly pulls the shirt back down, climbing unsteadily to his feet. 

Joe follows suit, standing up himself, napkin still clasped tightly between his fingers. 

"Patrick-" he begins. 

"I don't want to hear it." Patrick doesn't sound angry anymore. He doesn't exactly sound upset, either. 

He just sounds like he's given up. 

"But-" Joe tries again, certain that he can reason with Patrick, that he can say or do _something_ to fix this. 

"Screw off," Patrick mumbles, beginning to walk in Joe's direction. Joe isn't sure if Patrick is going to attack him or just leave, but neither of those ideas are too appealing. He just stands there, unsure of what to do. 

Patrick gets to him and quite literally shoves him aside, slamming his shoulder painfully into the doorframe. Joe can't even bring himself to be mad.

"Please-" Joe starts, though he's not even really trying anymore. He knows Patrick won't let him finish. 

Sure enough, Patrick mutters, "Leave me _alone_ ", then picks up speed and rushes out the door before Joe can say anything else, slamming it loudly behind him. 

Joe is left standing in the doorway, staring weakly at the front door, with a pain starting in his shoulder - fuck, that's gonna bruise - and the napkin still clutched tightly in his hand. 

He looks down at it, studying the rough sketch etched across its surface. The flame had burned away one corner, the place where he'd written Patrick's name. 

Joe's heart clenches and he drops the napkin, which tumbles to the ground and lands atop another pile of papers. A tiny bit of the charred material falls off and lands on top of a bright green post-it note beneath. Joe eyes it miserably. 

**This isn't real, remember?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that too much? yeah, probably. oh well


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't finished a chaptered fic since CATM what the fuck. 
> 
> And seeing as more than half of this fic was written in the past two days...whoa. Wild. 
> 
> Anyways! Enjoy this last chapter. 
> 
> Song recommendation for this chapter:  
> Start Over - Imagine Dragons

"What do you mean Patrick ran away?"

"What does it sound like I mean?" Joe asks sorely, straightening the pile of papers on his desk. He's gathered up all the papers that Patrick had scattered everywhere and organized them in a neat stack, fearing that if he damages any of them it's going to hurt Patrick again. He isn't sure exactly what had happened with the lighter, but in some odd way it still makes sense. More sense than most of this, at least, which isn't really saying much in the end. And besides, no matter how little he knows, the last thing he wants to do is hurt Patrick. 

Too fucking late, though, he supposes. 

It's been hours, the sun has set and the sky has gone dark, and Joe still doesn't know what to do, so he'd called the one person he trusts to give him advice right now. 

"Why the fuck would he do that?" Pete's voice sounds tinny over the phone, and Joe wonders if he's somewhere with bad reception. "The guy's head over heels for you, you wrote him like that."

Joe groans, the words striking a nerve, because they're completely true. "That's the problem! I did write him like that! And now he knows I did!"

Pete is silent for a moment, then says, sudden understanding clear in his voice, "Oh, shit."

"Yeah, oh shit!" Joe says exasperatedly, stepping back from the pile of pages reluctantly. "What am I supposed to do? He's fucking pissed at me and I can't figure out what I'm supposed to say!"

"Do you know where he is?" Pete asks, worry working into his voice as he speaks. "Like, he could be anywhere. Maybe finding him should be your first priority here."

"No, I-" Joe starts, then stops, freezing. His eyes drift back to the pages on his desk, and his stomach twists. "Actually, no, I think I know exactly where he is."

"Then go," Pete says. "I'm sure he can't hate you forever."

"I hope you're right," Joe says quietly. He hangs up without another word, pocketing his phone and turning to the door after one last forlorn glance at the stack of papers sitting on the stained wooden surface of his desk. 

He knows exactly where Patrick has gone. 

///

Joe shivers. Even with a thick coat on, the park is freezing on a winter night. He's going to catch a cold again if he isn't careful. He walks briskly down the concrete path in a vague attempt to keep himself warm, trees blurring in his peripheral vision as he passes them. 

The fountain comes into view quickly, white marble illuminated in the bright moonlight, water still cascading gently down the fixture's side. 

And, sitting on the edge, sobbing into his hands, is Patrick. 

Joe has to pause for a moment, recognizing the familiar scene that he'd never thought he'd see in reality - only in his head, in his writing. Patrick sitting on the side of the fountain, crying, and Joe approaching from the side, dumbfounded. 

Finishing the story, Joe walks up to Patrick from behind, and says softly, "Excuse me, but I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Patrick stiffens at the words. "Go away," he mutters, wrapping his arms around himself and pointedly looking further away from Joe. 

Joe steps forward a little more, sitting down next to Patrick's shaking figure and speaking, trying for a small smile as he does, "Now, hey, that's not how it goes."

"Shut up," Patrick huffs, keeping his face averted from Joe. "It never went like that in the first place."

Joe's heart drops, and his attempt at a smile falls. He sighs heavily, looking down to the ground. "I know. I'm sorry."

Patrick is silent for a moment, and then he says, his voice faint, "I - I never thought...god, this felt like the most real thing ever. I remember meeting like this, I really do, but - but it didn't happen, did it? I just...how much of the shit that I remember didn't happen? How much of it is the fountain all over again?" He looks over to Joe now, finally, and there's a horrible pained look in his eyes, making Joe kind of wish he'd look away again. "How much of it was ever real?"

Joe looks back up to Patrick, the look in Patrick's eyes making him feel a little nauseous. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

"That's not what I asked," Patrick says. Joe is surprised to say that Patrick doesn't sound angry at all anymore. He's speaking calmly and evenly, and the pained look is the only indication left that he's upset about this. He repeats, "How much of this is real?"

Joe takes a deep breath. He's not going to lie anymore. He can't risk anything that could hurt Patrick like this again. "A week ago, I woke up and you were making me breakfast. Before then...before then, I'd never seen you in my life."

"Except the drawings," Patrick says, going back to staring down at the ground. "And the writing, and all of that." He adds, voice shaking like he's about to cry again, "That's all I am, isn't it?"

"Patrick, no!" Joe exclaims, gasping. He takes Patrick's face in his hands and forces his miserable boyfriend to look him in the eyes. "Look at me. Hey. That is _not_ all you are."

"But I'm not _real_." Patrick states it like a fact and his vindictive certainty makes Joe's heart twist. 

"No, no, fuck, you _are_ ," he tells Patrick insistently, brushing a reemerging tear off Patrick's cheek with his thumb. 

"You just told me I didn't exist until a week ago," Patrick says blankly, staring at Joe and looking...Joe tries to think of another word, but he can't. 

Patrick looks afraid. 

This is what breaks Joe. He drops his hands from Patrick's face and pulls him into his arms suddenly, gripping him tightly like he's never going to let go - and if he has any say in it, he isn't. "Listen to me _right fucking now_. You're right. Up to a week ago, you didn't exist, except for as an idea in my head. I-" He pauses, inhaling sharply. "I can't lie to you about that. But you're here _now_. You're here and you're real and whether or not you used to be doesn't matter, okay?" 

Patrick sniffles into Joe's shoulder, which only makes Joe want to hold him tighter. But then another idea occurs to him. He lets Patrick go and leans back. 

"Hey," he says, his tiny idea starting to form more and more solidly as he considers it more and more. "Let's start over."

"Huh?" Patrick blinks, causing a couple stray tears to tumble down his cheeks. The sight only makes Joe more certain that he needs to fix this. 

"We're going to start over," Joe repeats, more assuredly this time. "Wait here."

He gets up, leaving Patrick by the fountain. He makes it back to the edge of the fountain's clearing, then turns around. Patrick is staring weakly at the concrete again. Joe takes a deep breath, and walks back over. 

He says again, "Excuse me, but I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Patrick looks up at him, eyes wide, and for a second Joe is afraid this is going to backfire again, but this time Patrick continues the conversation exactly like it had been written. 

"Is it hard to have never seen everyone else in your life?" he asks, sniffling a couple more times, but the sadness is starting to melt off his face like a switch has been turned off. 

Joe smiles, relieved, and keeps going. He takes his seat next to Patrick again. "I'm serious. You're fucking ravishing, man."

Patrick snickers, an actual smile appearing on his face, which is the best thing Joe thinks he's seen all day. Or maybe ever. "Who says ravishing anymore?"

"I do." Joe reaches over and sets a gentle hand on Patrick's shoulder. He pretends to have just now noticed the tear trails adorning Patrick's cheeks. "Hey, shit, are you okay?"

Patrick cocks his head to the side, his smile spreading. "I think I am now."

Joe grins right back. "It might be too early to say this...but I think I love you."

Patrick is the one to finally break the story, going off-script in the best way possible as he leans in to press his lips to Joe's. Joe doesn't hesitate to kiss back. 

Patrick leans back, smiling ear-to-ear and looking at Joe with more happiness than Joe would've thought to be physically possible. 

"I think I love you too."

///

Joe has never been so happy to wake up in Patrick's arms, with Patrick's face pressed into his collarbone and their arms tangled up together under the covers. 

It takes him a moment to realize why he's awoken - his phone is ringing. He groans and rolls over, grabbing it off the nightstand and answering it. 

"H'llo?" he yawns out, putting the phone to his ear. 

"Joe. Good to finally to talk to you again."

Joe holds back another groan. It's his publisher. Way to ruin his fucking good mood, Miriam. 

"Yeah, uh, hi," he says, yawning again into the phone. 

"Did I wake you up?" Miriam asks, though Joe doesn't think she really cares if she has. 

"It's fine," Joe replies, sitting up in bed and trying to keep his voice low, as not to wake Patrick, who is still snuggled up besides him. 

"Good." Miriam's tone is business-like and neat, and she sounds rather awake for - Joe checks the clock - seven-thirty in the morning. "Anyways," she continues, "I'm assuming you're going to have a new idea in by next week?"

Joe's eyes widen. Suddenly, he is very, very awake as well. Shit. He'd forgotten his deadline, what with being caught up in the mess with Patrick. And hell, Patrick was supposed to be his idea to save his job. Obviously, that can't happen anymore. His gaze falls back to his sleeping boyfriend as he responds, "Um, sure. Yes."

"I take my deadlines very seriously," Miriam tells him, and it kind of sounds like a threat. Knowing her, it probably is. 

Joe sighs. "I know, Miriam, I know."

And suddenly, it hits him. He _does_ have an idea. His eyes remain on Patrick as he says, "Actually, I think I do have something for you."

"Great. Then you can meet tomorrow at four?" Miriam asks, her tone practical and professional. 

Joe has no choice but to agree, because he knows Miriam only accepts meetings when and where _she_ wants them to happen. And besides, it's not like he's busy then, or ever at all. "Sure," he agrees. "See you then."

Miriam hangs up, and Joe finds he isn't stressed anymore. He has everything he needs right here. What else could he possibly want from life?

He sets his phone back on the nightstand and lays back down, snuggling into Patrick's arms again. 

Patrick makes a sleepy noise and mutters, "Wha's that?"

"Go back to sleep, babe," Joe says softly, pulling Patrick closer, even though he's pretty sure Patrick hadn't been awake in the first place. 

"Mm," Patrick mumbles, leaning into Joe's arms. Joe smiles down at him. 

Yeah, he thinks. Patrick is all he's ever really needed. 

Joe is so, so grateful that Patrick exists. 

 

_Epilogue_

Joe still doesn't get why people show up to his "book signing" events. He's not even a particularly popular writer, and he's not the best artist around either. But without fail, every new book he puts out gets a ridiculous turnout at the signings, even if there's not all that much critical response afterwards. 

He sighs heavily as he makes out a note to someone named Nora, then slides the book to the person who'd brought it. They thank him excitedly and head off to show their friends. 

He groans pitifully as another person steps up. He can only take so much brain-numbing signing before his own signature starts to look alien to him. 

Luckily, he hears a bright, "Hey, hon!" to his left and turns to see Patrick approaching with a coffee. 

He accepts it thankfully. "God, Patrick, what would I do without you?"

"Die, probably," Patrick says jokingly, smiling at the long line in front of Joe's table. "Wow, people love this comic."

"I've got you to thank for it," Joe says, looking down at the books crowding his table. Many a person has asked him how he came up with the idea about a writer's character coming to life - but that's for him and Patrick to know, and no one else to ever find out. 

"Mhm, but you've got yourself to thank for me, so who's really to blame here?" Patrick quips, laughing a little. Joe smiles up at him. Patrick has gotten really good at being able to joke about his origins, and Joe thinks it's helping him deal with it. So Joe appreciates the constant wisecracks, because he can see Patrick ease up each time he makes a sarcastic comment about the odd situation. 

"Funny," he says, rolling his eyes and turning to the next person in line, a guy with long hair and a ratty hoodie who's rambling, "Could you make this out to Nan? She's a huge fan of you and she would love a signed comic, and-"

"Got it," Joe cuts the guy off apologetically, scribbling a note to "Nan" and signing it. He hands the book to the guy and says, "Thank you."

The guy nods happily and moves away so the next person can come up. 

Joe looks up to Patrick again, seeing that's he's still hovering around the table with his own coffee gripped securely in his hand. Joe looks back down to the comic and grins contentedly. He's so fucking lucky. Patrick's existence is the most ridiculous thing to ever happen to him, and he's so, so grateful for it. 

An hour later, he's finally done signing books. There's one left on the table, but that's not for any guests at the signing. He's reserved that one for someone else. 

He stands up, pocketing his pen and tucking the last book under his arm. He walks over to Patrick, who's still waiting across the bookstore like he has been for the past hour, watching anxiously as he had lingered in hopes that Joe would be done any minute. Finally, Joe is done, and he heads over to his boyfriend with a smile on his face and a book in hand. 

"Here," he says, handing it to Patrick. 

Patrick frowns, eyeing it warily, not taking it yet. "I've already read it. I don't need a copy."

"No, take it," Joe encourages, and adds, "Look inside."

Patrick obliges, puzzled, but his face lights up the second he sees what Joe has scribbled inside the first page.

"Oh, Joe," he says softly, a joyful smile working onto his face. "I love you so much."

Joe beams. "I love you too."

_To Patrick-_

_You're the best idea I've ever had._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) hope y'all enjoyed this fucking wild fic. thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> reminder that you can feel free to talk to me on tumblr! my tumblr is vicesandvelociraptors :)


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